


A terrible idea, not like his were ever really any good

by Camfield



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Other, Sticky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 13:46:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3136640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camfield/pseuds/Camfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Drabbles that are connected for the flimsiest of reasons and give me somewhere to post my self indulgent mess~</p>
    </blockquote>





	1. Taunt

**Author's Note:**

> Drabbles that are connected for the flimsiest of reasons and give me somewhere to post my self indulgent mess~

It was an external vid feed, though if it was from a watcher or a capture device, Bluestreak wasn't giving any clues either way. Looking directly at what or whoever it was, digits sliding down over his pelvic plate to spread mesh. A tease and an invitation all in one. Arching a little, the plates of his abdominal armor shifting to reveal cables and a hint of protoform shimmering underneath. An obvious shift of pleasure as those same digits shifted into a point and pressed inside. Hips beginning to rise and fall in deliberate motion, though the shimmer of lubricant coating them made it clear he was enjoying the movement very much.

And when he overloaded, his mouth open and panels flared wide, it was with Ricochet's designation on his lips.


	2. Tease

Bluestreak liked to wake up pressed against someone. The need to touch was sated, the need to fill his field with energy was sated. Pulling his berth partner into long, languid kisses to wake them up, too. Digits stroking, doorwings fanning as the inevitable heat rose between frames and still paying it no mind. Simply kissing, licking over lips and sharp denta, Twining glossae together, coaxing the sleepy one into a slow, almost agonizingly so, dance that left oral lubricants smearing lips until they shone. 

And he loved that hazy, just roused look. Optics dim, field not quite under control. Just waiting for the moment when he was tugged in and kissed a little more firmly, even as he giggled.


	3. Rest

Bluestreak liked to cuddle close. He liked to duck under arms and snuggle close to chassis'. To nuzzle chins and jaws until his berth partner grumblingly gave him the attention he was searching for. Optics dim, mostly shuttered as he purred and wiggled into the most comfortable of positions. Digits stroking over helm, down the arch of one cheek and into neck cabling to finger through and stroke energon lines. Servos roving in steady movements until recharge once again claimed him and he rested, pressed in close enough to hear the way spark spun and whirled within it's confines.

That was when he finally faded, one servo pressed against chestplating and a smile on his lips.


	4. Kissing

Bluestreak is 'sneaky sneaking' up behind Ricochet and depositing himself into the larger mech's lap for kisses. As many kisses as he can before he's asked what he's doing, and dodging the question for as long as he can after that. His arms winding around the mech's neck, torso curved backward to keep his kibble mostly under control and out of the way. Finally deigning to answer the growled question with a light voice, lips still pressing forward. "Kissing."

That explained everything.

And it was easy to relax into the claws pricking at his hips. Too easy to relax into the fangs that grazed over his glossa and lips. Curling closer, pelvic plates fitted together in the perfect way that gave pressure and heat and teased at neural nets. He knew he would pay for this in some way or another, but...

For right now, all he could do was focus on the way his own ventilations shuddered and his doorwings flared and dipped. The pressure and pleasure that came from each kiss, and the way fields swirled and meshed, then pulled apart to collide once more.


	5. Morning pleasures

Bluestreak had already coaxed that studded spike out into the air, trailing digits down Ricochet's torso as he moved up to straddle the mech's abdominal plating, just resting with his aft touching the top. Catching him in a languid kiss for the moment it was allowed, and teasing him with the barest of touches along his horns. 

He chuckled as he pulled back, feeling servos grasp at his hips and the tips of claws prick at his armor. Rising to his knees and lining them up, one of his own servos holding Ricochet steady as he slowly sank down over the mech. Helm tipping back and a long, pleasured sigh coming from him as it spread him in all the right ways. The stretch of rim and mesh setting off nodes and the piercing pressing right up against his ceiling node when he finally seated himself fully. Hips twitching, vents sharp and his calipers clenching down over the mech as he adjusted.

Then, he started to move. Rising and falling in an almost harsh rhythm, where claws helped him thump down and his own powerful leg hydraulics pushed him back up again. Doorwings flared, his arms raising over his helm and his back arching just a little as the feeling, the sensation rippled through his sensor net.

Primus he loved Ricochet's spike. 

Appreciation and arousal flowed hot and heavy in his field, each stroke taking him a little harder, a little faster, until he was bouncing. Doorwings bobbing, his mouth dropped open in a perpetual gasping moan, and the gunner hitched and convulsed as overload tore through him. Feeling the drip of transfluid as it made it's way back down to make a mess of his partner's array housing, and managing to flex his first caliper to keep most of it inside for the moment.

Yes. Oh yes, he loved facing this mech.


End file.
